Beautiful Puppet
by Julri
Summary: Princess Savanna just wants to know who she really is. A version of Sleeping Beauty.


I'd always been the girl that had, well, everything. Beauty was the first thing given to me. Then a beautiful voice. Following that were intelligence, bravery, a sense of humor, caring, kindness, and others that I very well might have had on my own, had my parents and the fairies chanced it.

You know the story, I'm sure. Twelve good fairies came to me when I was born and granted me wishes, because I was the princess. I suppose if I'd been a dying peasant child, they wouldn't have given me a second glance. But because I was a princess, I had to be fixed. Made to be beautiful, caring, intelligent, and everything else they could think of. Maybe I was a very ugly, bad tempered, and dim-witted child, which is why they gave these gifts to me. But, personally, I think it had more to do with how you just can't take chances when dealing with a princess.

Of course, along with those gifts came a curse. A thirteenth fairy, though she's often just called The Witch, predicted that I would prick my finger on a spindle on my sixteenth birthday and die. And, of course, that she would do everything possible to make that happen.

But, naturally, the bad characters in stories always have such awful sense of timing, because the twelfth fairy still hadn't given her gift. She waved her wand and told me that I would not die, but would sleep till my true love came and kissed my lips.

Growing up, I was always a superlative child. As in I was the smartest, fastest, bravest, funniest, and the most of everything else all the other children wanted to be. Of course, they couldn't stay mad at me, because I was also the kindest and the most caring.

Also, I was the most sheltered. My parents -well, technically the nurses, seeing as my parents were always too busy- watched me night and day, trying to make sure The Witch's plans wouldn't come true. They never let me leave the castle or really do anything for that matter.

But, do you ever wonder what would happen if you jumped off a tall fence? If you punched your fist through glass? If you touched the flame on a candle?

I always wondered what would happen if I left the castle. Would I die? Would The Witch find me? And, if she did, would I mind?

When I was fifteen, the urge to leave had risen to a level that was almost unbelievable. I felt like I was slowly going insane. Like if I stayed bottled up for one more second I might just burst forth and go as far away as I could.

So, I left.

And, yes, it was easy. If you're wondering how I tricked guards, outran dogs, and got past the many vines that surrounded around castle, just remember that I was the smartest, fastest, and strongest, after all.

The outside world was so different. I don't think I could describe it if I tried. Except that it was just... wonderful.

I ran a while before I came to a house. A farmer's house. I knocked. Naturally, I wasn't afraid of what might happen then. I couldn't be. When you're the bravest, there's no room for fear.

An old farmer opened the door. "Ye'? You want somethin'?"

"I am Princess Savanna and I have come to ask for your services," I said.

The old man blinked at me. "Huh?"

"I am Princess Savanna and I have come to ask for your services," I repeated.

"Huh?"

"I am... oh, never mind." I wrinkled my brow and wonder if all peasants are this dim-witted. The odd thing is, this wass perhaps the most unkind think I've ever thought.

Later that night, after I'd walked a bit farther, I sat down by a large tree and slept there, feeling helpless. Not scared, mind you. Just helpless.

For about a month, this is what I did. I slept by the tree at nights. During the day I took food from the farmer's garden. Of course, it was always my intent to repay him when I decided to go back home, so it wasn't exactly stealing.

The forest was a very peaceful place. I didn't have servants bustling in and out of my room. I didn't have to pretend to laugh at anyone's jokes or try to entertain anyone. It was very different from what I was used to, and I loved it.

My sixteenth birthday snuck up on me before I even realized it. And, perhaps the day would have slipped my mind entirely if that night I hadn't of returned to find a spinning wheel by my tree.

The urge to touch the spindle was unbearable. What would happen? Would I really fall into a deep sleep? Or would I just cut my finger a bit? I stretched out my hand over the spindle. I was going to touch it.

But, then I froze.

I must have let my hand hover over that spindle for hours. I don't know why. Maybe knew in the back of my mind that I shouldn't do it. Or maybe it was because touching the spindle was just one more thing I had to do because of some silly spell a fairy put on me when I was a child. I'd obeyed the others till now, and to just go along with this one would have to prove that I was just a puppet. Just a little doll everyone dressed up and moved. It was bad enough that they carved me out to be beautiful and they made me smart, but I couldn't help but be brave or caring or much of anything, really. I was just a puppet on strings. A doll that was shaped exactly how they wanted it to be shaped.

So, I let my hand stay firmly over the spindle. I would neither lower it onto the spindle nor take it away. I wouldn't do anything the others wanted me to do.

Then, it came. Midnight. I was now sixteen and a day.

I shuddered and then fell limp to the ground. It felt like everything was changing. I no longer wanted to touch the spindle. But, at the same time, I felt scared. Before that moment, I'd never realized what fear meant. But I did then. And I felt duller, too. I couldn't think of a single joke, a single fact. And I felt angry. I didn't want to be caring or kind at all.

What really did it was when I pulled out my mirror and I saw a stranger looking back. Granted, she still had much of my traits, but I did not know her. She looked frailer and weaker. Her nose was too big and her hair was too limp. I was no longer beautiful.

I eventually fell asleep. For days, maybe. I was exhausted. More so than I'd even been in my entire life.

I woke up to someone's touch. I felt the person lift up my hand and... kiss it? My eyes opened and I saw a very sad looking boy.

"She must've passed on in the night," he muttered. "Poor girl. She was a pretty thing, too."

I begin to panic. Did I become beautiful again? Would all of those old gifts -or curses, if you will- come back to me? I sat up quickly, feeling like I would scream.

The boy jumped back. "Oh, geeze. I thought you were gone. Are you alright?"

"F... f... fine," I stuttered. My voice sounded odd. Scratchy and deeper.

"Oh, geeze," the boy said again. "Here, let me help you up."

He pulled me up and let me lean on his shoulder. I still felt weak, so I let him half carry me away.

We come to the farm I'd been taking food from, where the old man lived. "Hey! Grandpa!" the boy called. "Come out!"

The old man hobbled to the door and looked out. "What is it, George?"

"I found this girl," the boy said. "She's really sick, I think. I thought she was dead, at first. Help me bring her inside."

Together they brought me in and sat me on a bed. "She's runnin' a fever," the old man said, touching my forehead. "Go get her some water and then we'll let her rest for a bit."

I drank up the water greedily and then slept for a while longer. When I awoke, it was night. The boy was sitting by my bed, just watching me. "How do you feel?" he asked.

"Fine," I responded.

"I'm George," he told me.

"I'm... Savanna." That was the first time I'd ever introduced myself without a title attached to my name. It felt good.

"Savanna. That's a pretty name," he said.

"Thanks." I looked around the room. The house was dark and dirty looking. The only light came from a small candle on a night stand by my head. Then, a thought popped into my mind. I reached for my mirror. As I pulled it from my pocket, I saw that the glass was broken into bits.

"Sorry about that," George said. "It must have been crushed when we laid you down."

"Do you... do you have a mirror I could look at?" I asked.

"No, but you might be able to see your reflection in a platter. We have a silver one." He got up and walked across the room. After rummaging though a few cabinets, he found it. "Here you go."

I took the platter and looked into it. My nose was still big and my hair was still mousy. I wasn't beautiful again, which was oddly enough a very reassuring thought.

"Why did you call me pretty, earlier," I asked George. "When you thought I was dead."

"Well... I, uh..." he sputtered. "I, uh... well... because you are?"

Thinking about it now, people had told me I was beautiful my whole life. But I think this is the first time somebody really meant it. And maybe the first time I really was.

"Thank you," I said. And for the first time ever, I said it because I really was happy to hear him say that, not because I had to. "So are you."

His cheeks lit up. "Er, I..."

"I mean that you're a nicer than what I'm used to," I said, quickly. "That is, if you like that explanation better."

His cheeks were still red, but he managed to squeak out a thank you.

We were silent for a few moments. Silences can be wonderful things. But, other times talking can be even more beautiful. So, when he asked what my story was, I told him.

And it wasn't because I had to.


End file.
